


Lost and Found

by Ramzes



Series: Targaryens: Times of Glory [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:21:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramzes/pseuds/Ramzes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The whole realm knew that Daenerys Targaryen loved Daemon Blackfyre and was loved by him in turn. But he lost the war. And now she was lost in Dorne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time she saw Sunspear, she felt lost. Was this monstrosity of a castle where she was supposed to live from now on? How had this so called city managed to resist the Targaryens for two hundred years? It was a little more than a bunch of hovels!

And the people! The style! Daeron kept a court of maesters and learned men, albeit an illustrious one. But Daenerys still remembered her father's days when women had been quite bold and provocative in their attire. Still, even Aegon's most daring mistresses had not dared dress the way Dornish ladies did. They were clad in… see-through, practically! And no one saw anything shocking about this. In fact, more than once they had suggested that _she_ changed _her_ attire! Ha! As if! Sure, their outfits seemed more suited for the weather here but Daenerys held morals dearer than comfort.

Dornish women flirted outrageously and once, Daenerys even saw a lady pick up one of the lords, inviting him to dance. Later, she noticed them sneaking out of the hall together. She looked at her husband, expecting him to do something. Well, he did: he smiled benignly. It turned out the lord was one of his oldest friends. The lady, though… suffice it to say that to Daenerys, she was no lady at all. Indeed, there might be no ladies here at all… How had Daeron ever thought of subjecting her to this! To him.

Not that Prince Maron Martell did anything as to embarrass her. Far from that. He did everything he could to make her feel welcome and appreciated. But she didn't. She never would. This was not her place. This was not home. Home was King's Landing, with its impressive buildings and ways she was accustomed to, with nice breeze and food she could actually eat. Home was Daemon… but he wasn't anymore, was he? He was dead. Dead! Dead because of his love for her. Dead because he had claimed a crown that was not his. Daenerys had never wanted to be Daemon's queen but oh! how had she desired to be his wife. A longing that she had held for years. A dream that had not come to pass.

She had trouble understanding half of what she was being told. Thanks to the Seven that Queen Myriah had not lost her Dornish accent completely! The fact that she had listened to a Dornishwoman speaking since she was a child now helped her immensely… although the last thing she wanted to hear was the gossip about Maron's late mistress – his great love, apparently – and how after her death, the Prince's household had all but fallen apart and the new Princess was obviously expected to restore order… These women seemed to have no idea that it was highly inappropriate to speak about the Prince's 'companion', as they called her, in front of her. Let alone the fact that Maron obviously had no intent of sending his bastard son Alor Sand to be fostered somewhere away. At least he had enough decency to not parade the boy in front of her.

No, she could never get used to their ways.

Myriah had always told her that Dornish valued women's opinion as much as men's but Daenerys had no opinion to offer. She felt so useless here, stuck in a world whose rules she did not either know or approve. It was nothing like she had imagined her marriage to be. Starting with her husband. She still wept for Daemon at night. It was a good thing Maron never stayed with her in her bedchamber. He always left her alone after… well, after. And she was grateful for that.

She could hardly wait for a decent period of time to pass after her wedding, so she could go back to King's Landing to visit.


	2. Chapter 2

Daenerys loved the afternoons best. Then, Sunspear went to lazy sleep and she could be left on her own, with no one begging for favours, no one asking questions, no one eager to please her or educate her about Dornish ways. She already knew more than she wanted about them and not even half of what she needed. Her respect for the Queen went up another notch: Myriah had managed to get used to Westeros ways admirably. Better, she had managed to bend them her way. Somewhat. It always amused Daenerys to imagine the nice, kind, _proper_ Daeron and his new bride. He must have been sorely tempted to hide between his masters and septons! Actually, Baelor claimed that his father had done that sometimes, when Baelor was little.

But Daenerys was not Myriah. She didn't know how to make a place for herself here. The fact that she did not wish to be here at all did not help things. So she loved sitting alone at the terrace overlooking the marble courtyard and dream of a future that had not come to pass and a man she had not come to be with. No one interrupted her daydreaming – everybody was too busy hiding from the heat.

This afternoon, though, her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by wild enthused screams. A few children had come to the courtyard, wielding sticks that were meant to represent swords. Daenerys smiled at the sight, taken back to her own childhood when she had been surrounded mostly by boys who had loved doing this same thing and producing the same cries. It was a tournament now, it seemed. These had been exciting and glorious, and she had loved them more than she had liked real tournaments when she grew up. Men died at tournaments. Men died at war.

One of the most fearsome warriors in the courtyard was Alor Sand. Her smile disappeared. The boy behaved as if he belonged here. The worst part was, according to Dornishmen, he did – one of the too many differences between Dorne and Westeros.

Unbeknown to her, Maron had emerged from his private chambers and come near. She startled at the sound of his voice, "Does he make you uncomfortable?"

She looked at him inquiringly. "Alor," he elaborated. "Does his presence here make you feel uncomfortable?"

Daenerys hesitated, completely unprepared for such a question. She didn't know what to say. This was the first time she and her husband were alone together, save for the privacy of her bedchamber where they did not talk much. Should she tell the truth? Or a pleasing diplomatic lie? Would Maron get angry at her honesty? Should she say anything at all?

He seemed to be waiting for an answer. And Daenerys suddenly decided to be sincere. "A little," she said. "Or maybe somewhat more."

Maron looked sad but did not say a thing. Daenerys raised her chin, refusing to be cowed into silence. He _had_ asked. The boy was not to blame, of course, but she could not help but feel uneasy at sight of the living proof of her husband's long affair with another woman. Bastards were not well-liked in Westeros, even the Great Bastards. _Especially_ the Great Bastards.

"Things are different in King's Landing.," she said and gave him a surprised look when he took a seat next to her. 'I am sure I will get accustomed to your ways soon."

"Or not so soon," he said. Daenerys thought she had detected a faint trace of amusement in his voice but she could read nothing in his face. "I've seen how you look at our women. Are we really this shocking?"

He had watched her without her even noticing. Had it been Daemon, she would have felt immediately the heat in his eyes. She would have been alerted to his staring. A new wave of sadness washed over her.

"I am sure it is not so different in King's Landing,' Maron said, having taken her silence for confirmation. "We are just more reluctant to disguise these things. But people are all the same – here, at King's Landing, anywhere. They do have their desires and here, we are more upfront about satisfying them."

"Really? What about Alynna?" The question came out before Daenerys could stop it. She shouldn't have asked. She did not really want to know.

But her husband did not look offended. "No, Alynna was faithful to me," he said calmly. "She pledged her love and loyalty to me and I never had any reason to doubt her sincerity. Just like she never had a reason to doubt me, ever."

Now, Daenerys looked at him wide-eyed, forgetting to be uncomfortable. "You were never unfaithful to her?"

"I loved her," Maron said simply. "We were very young in the beginning and in all our years together she gave me everything I needed. Why should I have been unfaithful to her?"

 _Because she was your mistress_ , Daenerys wanted to say. _Because men are not faithful to their paramours._ Her father hadn't been. It had not stopped him from demanding that his mistresses be faithful to him.

"Listen," he suddenly said. "I know I am not the husband you hoped for. But I will do everything I can to make you happy. If you need something from me, you should just tell me."

"Even if I need Alor to be removed from court?" she asked, once again forgetting to check herself.

His face closed and on his face something that might have been a very brief flash of pain played momentarily. "Anything but that, Daenerys. I cannot give him up."

"Then, you have nothing that I need," she said tiredly. She had gotten her answer. It was the boy who mattered to him more. Not she.

He looked at the children in the yard and then her. "Here in Dorne, we believe differently than the rest of the Seven Kingdoms," he tried to explain. "Bastards are not necessarily a reason for shame. Neither are they inherently vile creatures. They are only children. Children who are born to enough disadvantages already without being hidden away."

Daenerys fanned herself with the fan she had brought from her chambers. Without even knowing it, her husband had struck the right chord with her. She had loved her father but she had disliked his horde of women that he changed whenever he felt like it. Love was never part of it. Even Daemon… He was always ready to bed whichever woman had taken his fancy for the day. And Daenerys had not liked it, despite knowing that it was she who he loved. Besides, she had a soft spot for children, she always had. And it seemed she had come to a place where some children were treated a lot better than they were in King's Landing. _Maybe I could live here after all._

She looked at the courtyard. Alor was only five but it was obvious that he had been entrusted to a very competent master-in-arms. The basic movements and swift reactions were already embedded in him. She was not surprised when a few minutes later, he disarmed his opponent, becoming a champion in their tournament. She politely applauded and Alor, beaming with pride, placed a single yellow flower under her terrace. His meaning was obvious – he had just proclaimed her Queen of Love and Beauty. She had long ago noticed his fascination with her silver hair and purple eyes that were virtually nonexistent here.

She smiled at him. And kept smiling even after their group left the court, headed for the port, as long as she could say.

Much later, when Maron Martell thought about the beginning of his marriage, he realized that it had been this day when his bride had really started looking at him.


	3. Chapter 3

It was so hot that Daenerys kept waking all night long, sweaty and uncomfortable. Whatever she had thought she knew about Dornish heats paled in comparison with the reality of Dornish summer. How could people live in this swelter? How was she going to survive it? Her brief episodes of sleep were nowhere near enough to let her rest and be ready for the next day which would be no doubt even hotter…

She entangled her arms and legs from the light covering and kicked it aside to go to the window. The pale moon was shining so brightly, it was almost unnatural. But it was also lovely. _There is never such a moon over King's Landing_ , Daenerys thought and smiled. Then, she noticed that her nightgown was soaking wet and sighed. It looked like she'd have to try the piece her Dornish attendants insisted was a nightgown – too short, too fine, and too low-necked for her taste… She was sure that even Shiera Seastar would not wear this thing. Unless, of course, Shiera was packed off to Dorne…

The breeze caressed her face and mussed her hair a bit. Daenerys opened the door to the terrace, went out lifted her face upward and closed her eyes, only to open them again when she heard the sound of boots echoing on the marble flagstones of the inner courtyard.

Maron had come back! She was surprised to find her lips curling in a smile before her mind could catch up. The Prince had been absent for about a month, settling scores with some outlaws, and nothing in his letters had indicated that he'd be back soon. Smiling, Daenerys was about to go back inside and wait for him when she saw where he was headed for: the wing of the palace where children of noble lineage lived, the rooms that Alor dwelled in.

Angry and more disappointed that she would expect, Daenerys went back to bed and closed her eyes. When a few minutes later the door creaked, she held her breath. Maron's hand slowly caressed her hair, her cheek. She pretended to be asleep and after a while, he sighed and left as silently as he had come.

* * *

_The next morning…_

When the sun rose, Daenerys was already regretting her stupid impulse. She wanted to know more about what had happened. She wanted to know whether the outlaws had been well and fully defeated… as well as what had befallen the House Yronwood. By the whispers of her ladies, she had gathered that the second leading House in Dorne was suspected to be behind these attempts to undermine the Martell's authority. She knew for sure that the Yronwoods had supported Daemon's cause…

Daemon… The thought of him still pained her but when she closed her eyes, she no longer saw purple eyes but black ones instead, kind and thoughtful, yet guarded and distant. _It's only because I live with him_ , she told herself sternly. Still, in her heart she knew that she was yielding, slowly but finally. Dornishmen did not try to break her, force their customs upon her or anything like that. They had just made room in their lives for her and engulfed her, slowly and discreetly. She had already accepted their outfits and had many robes made for her. She could now eat almost everything they ate and even find it good. This way, just by living with them, she was lowering her defences. Her walls were breaking down.

She expected that she'd find Maron in the small dining hall they broke their fast in. Instead, she found a maid who informed her that the Prince sent his regrets for he was otherwise occupied. Daenerys sat at the table, feeling really moody now. She should have overlooked his attachment to the child. She should have taken the opportunity when he had come to her bedside to stroke her hair. Really, it was nothing to be so angry about. The boy's mother was long dead. Alor was no threat to Daenerys. She'd give Maron children to succeed him – and it wouldn't even matter whether she'd have a son. In Dorne, daughters could inherit. Really, the boy didn't mean a thing in the grand scheme of things.

He mattered to Maron, though. He… and maybe his mother, even now? Daemon still mattered to Daenerys. Why should it be different for Maron? And why was she even thinking about his feelings? It wasn't as if she loved him. And he had never shown disrespect to her as his wife.

Deep in her thoughts, Daenerys did not notice the dark mood filling the huge halls, the subdued looks of the servants, the hushed whispers of the lords. Only when she went back to her chambers, something struck her as unusual. Her King's Landing entourage knew not to intrude upon her privacy but the Dornish attendants Maron had given her were another matter altogether – they felt it was their duty to keep their mistress well informed about every gossip in Sunspear and all of Dorne – all of Westeros, actually. It was through them that she learned why Lord Lannister had sent his son to the North to be fostered, instead of Storm's End, why the King had demanded a new Maester from the Citadel, why Maekar hadn't set a foot in King's Landing since the victory on Redgrass Field… _this_ one, they had almost right. Daenerys could only hope they didn't spread rumours about her, as well.

Now, though, they were strangely quiet, going about their chores with silent obedience – getting her correspondence, drawing her bath, laying out robes for her to choose between. Once or twice, Daenerys saw her King's Landing ladies trade looks, clearly as surprised as she was.

Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. She turned to Lady Aletta Dayne whom she had taken an immediate liking to because of her kind ways and, honestly, because she had the same colouring as hers, and asked, "What's going on, Lady Aletta?"

The young woman blushed. "No, Your Grace, it's nothing."

Daenerys lifted an eyebrow and left her hairbrush on the dressing table. "Clearly, it is something. I want to know what it is."

Lady Aletta sighed. "It's nothing that concerns you, Your Grace, it's just that… at his return, the Prince administered justice, early in the morning. Today, the ones providing help to the outlaws will be executed like traitors."

Daenerys still didn't understand. "And?"

Lady Aletta looked down. "Ser Anders, Lord Yronwood's second son, is among them. Everyone knows that he took the blame to protect the reputation of his House… that his father was the one who gave the orders… but he claimed that it was his idea and none of his kin took part in it. He is… he was the friend of the Prince's. They were inseparable, since they were children… up until three years ago."

This time, it was Daenerys' turn to blush and look down. When was it going to end? Wasn't it enough that Daemon was dead? That ten thousand had lost their lives on Redgrass Field alone? Would this land and its people know peace, _ever_?

A few hours later, she sat next to her lord husband in the Courtyard of Traitors when the eight men were brought to the scaffold. A rustle rose among the courtiers. As sweltering as it was, Daenerys felt suddenly chilled, as if the sun had stopped giving warmth.

She had never met Ser Anders Yronwood but she knew who he was immediately. She recognized him by the sudden tension in Maron's hand on the armrest, in the way his profile became more set. The young man walked on his own, shaking off the arms reaching to grab him. He stopped in front of the dais and bowed to them, deeply and respectfully. The rustle became louder. Near Daenerys, a woman sobbed.

Daenerys closed her eyes but suddenly, her husband spoke to her under his breath. "Open your eyes."

She wanted to shake her head but didn't. Not in front of everyone. "No…"

His hand gripped hers. Startled, Daenerys opened her eyes. She had not realized how strong he was. "You will watch," he ordered. "And you will witness the pain you've inflicted upon so many."

She looked into his eyes, black and expressionless. For the first time, he was being cold towards her.

She looked forward, could not look aside even when the executioner missed and his axe fell upon the head itself, splashing around horrible mess of blood and brains. All around, a cry rose. Daenerys was not sure that her voice was not part of it. The executioner had to try again, three more times, his blows landing in the disgusting red mess. Some of the seasoned warriors around looked ready to retch.

Finally, mercifully, it was over. When the head was lifted high, Daenerys thought that she would faint. It seemed that it was too much for Maron, too. As soon as they carried the head and the horrifying mutilated corpse out, he stood up and left staggering, his olive face absolutely white. His closest companions followed. Daenerys tried to catch his eye but he determinedly avoided to look in her direction, so she was left shaking in the sweltering heat.


	4. Chapter 4

The closing of the door felt like a sentence. Daenerys almost called her attendants back. It was only her pride that stopped her. That – and the clear realization that they couldn't help her. She was now Maron's, as much as his horses and falcons were. That was what had her not have the door bolted – he would just have it broken down.

In the dim light of a few candles, she changed into one of the wool nightgowns she had taken from King's Landing. She felt safer in it, even if she was damp with sweat only in a few minutes time. She paced around the room, sat in front of her dressing table and brushed her hair out, avoiding to look into her pale face.

Soon, the swelter made her change into a fine Dornish nightgown, after all. She stood at the opened window, waiting. She waited because she was sure that he'd come. She remembered how her father visited her mother's chambers each time he was enraged and drunk. 'Open the door, you pretentious bitch!' he'd bellow and Naerys would do it because she had no other choice. Daenerys had always thought her mother a little dull and baffled as how to deal with her husband – frankly, it wasn't as if he were a stranger; another woman might have done better with the knowledge gathered by the fact that he was her brother first but not Naerys, with her constant devotions and reading books on the Faith; but now, she had a sudden pang of closeness to her mother who surely must have felt helpless and trapped by something that she could not control. Just like her.

She stayed awake until the first light turned the sands into a sea of pink-red glowing. Then, stunned, she realized that he wouldn't come at all and was startled to find her relief tinged by the biting edge of disappointment, very much like the night before when he had gone to see his son first.

For the next few nights, he didn't come either. He was always polite but distant. She could see that he was battling some inner demons – much like many of the men that had survived Redgrass Field had. Not everyone, though. Bloodraven seemed perfectly content with his sin.

Maron spent much of his free time with his son and that made Daenerys grit her teeth – out of indignation, of course. Jealousy had nothing to do with it. Her intent grew. One day, she'd give him a son who would displace Alor, a trueborn son who would be worthy to inherit Dorne. Well, it was Dorne here, so a daughter would do just as fine…

Still, for either she needed him to come to her bed. And he had stopped doing it.

Things were no better with Dornish court. Wherever she went, she sensed an air of silent reproach that she could not show she noticed at all. She could not really blame them – everyone knew that she had been Daemon's love who had sparkled the war, that had it been up to her, she would have disdained their prince for him. And for a Dornishman, that was an insult to the entire Dorne. And oh, because of her the chance to put an end to a grudge that had made Dorne bleed for two thousand years was lost. Never mind that it was not true at all…

Still, it was Maron's withdrawal that hurt most. She had started growing attached to him just when he had stopped. She missed his little gestures of caring, the amused look in his eyes when she tried to pretend that she knew what she tasted at the dinner table before telling her its name for about a hundredth time for her to immediately forget it, his graceful consent when she approached him with small pleas on the behalf of people seeking her out, his interest in her activities that were not much to speak of yet… She did not love him but she had come to rely on his kindness, she had started to take it for granted, not realizing how fast he could take it back.

Now, when he no longer paid much attention to her in the great hall beyond basic courtesy, she had time to look around; stunned, she found out that while she had been feeling drifting apart from her new environment, her people had gone the opposite way. When she glanced around the very first evening, she found her household knight Ser Eryn Ironland seated at a game board against Lord Jordayne while Lady Lysette Lannister was chatting to Aletta Dayne, casting some not so secret glances at Ser Connel Uller. Her septa Marine was in deep, intent conversation with the septa who instructed Maron's bastard in the Faith; Ser Galend Highhill, whom she profoundly disliked for being foisted upon her by Maekar's wish, probably to spy on her for Daeron and of course, Maekar, whom he had only ever truly served in his life, was shaking his head in disagreement with something two Dornish men were telling him, but there was no animosity between them; and as she glanced around the hall, Daenerys realized that her men and women no longer sat in group by themselves but were instead scattered among the Dornish folk. How had it happened? How could she have missed it? Suddenly, she felt like a petulant child, intent on drowning in their own misery to the exclusion of anything else.

* * *

_A few days later…_

She rose with the sun – a rather impressive feat, for here the sun was gone for only several hours a night. She had barely slept this last night, contemplating her course of action. She would no longer mourn hidden in the palace. She was now the principal lady in Dorne, the Princess, and she had been neglecting her duty disgracefully. Were she here, Myriah would only shake her head in silent, yet all too evident disappointment; Naerys would have been horrified.

She had been here for months, yet she had never left the palace. She had never ridden in the streets of Sunspear, as narrow and hard as they were. She hadn't seen the Dornish folk and it hadn't seen her. She hadn't engaged in any meaningful activity, even charity. Until now, she had been only a jewel to grace the Old Palace, the court, much like… much like her father's mistresses had been. She blushed with shame and her face was still pink when she called for her attendants who came rubbing their eyes and clearly surprised to be summoned at a time when only the servants were awake.

When the sun started climbing high, Daenerys'entourage was already mounted. She was surprised when instead of her own horse she found herself looking at a grey mare with kind eyes and inquisitive nose that went straight for Daenerys' pocket and the apple there. She gave it to her – she couldn't resist. "There must have been a mistake," she told the groom. "She's lovely but she isn't mine…"

He looked surprised. "But she is," he assured her. "She's the Prince's present for you. She's been waiting for so long for her mistress…" He faltered and flushed, realizing too late that he had come dangerously close to reproaching her.

She let it pass – she was too busy thinking how could it be. But of course. Now she remembered that in her first week at Dorne, Maron had told her that he had a present for her in the stables. She had thanked him and immediately forgotten all about it, still too caught up in her own despair.

She held our a hand and stroked the glossy hide. "What's her name?" she asked.

"She's Dancer, my lady." The boy preened, touchingly proud of the lovely animal. "And a dancer she is, this one. She's barely a year old, she comes from a good stock. Loves her apples," he added when the nose headed for Daenerys' riding attire again, looking for another apple.

She laughed. "Yes, I can say," she said, still stroking the mare. "You're so lovely," she said softly. "You're so beautiful, Dancer. We'll become friends, you and I. And you'll have an apple every day, I promise. Now, will you let me?"

An older groom helped her mount and the party left the courtyard in a cloud of dust. Daenerys immediately realized that whoever had named Dancer had made a good choice. The mare was really dancing beneath her, yet her movements were so graceful that anyone but the worst horsewoman would find it easy to ride her. Her husband's thoughtfulness in choosing the present brought sudden tears to her eyes. It was hard to reconcile him with the man who now disdained her so politely, blaming her for the young Yronwood's death.

Despite the rising heat, Sunspear teemed with life. Women carrying baskets, bags, and children were hurrying down the narrow winding streets, the merchants were going on their business, clutching their purses tightly. A buyer was directing two men carrying a brand new trestle table with chairs out of the carpenters' and the stall of the silk vendor was an incredible blend of colours of all hues and shine. Half-naked children darted here and there between their elders and Daenerys envied them. She would have liked to disrobe, too, in the heat. The air pulsed with voices, footsteps, hammers, clang of coins in purses and whisper of materials.

But wherever Daenerys and her retinue passed, activity stopped and people stared at her stunned before bowing in respect and cheering. Even so, they kept casting not so covert glances at their new princess. Her silver hair and purple eyes were virtually unheard here. A little girl, no more than three, cried out and ran for her before her mother could catch her. Even when Daenerys' knights stood in her way and her mother came running to retrieve her, she kept reaching for Daenerys, her eyes huge and fascinated. The Princess gestured to Lady Lysette and Lysette handed her the purse she carried for such occasions. Daenerys opened it and fumbled for a handful of coins which she spread liberally. Both her mother and Myriah were generous queens who supported many charities but unlike Naerys who had been painfully shy and withdrawn, Myriah always delighted in giving alms in person. Long ago, Daenerys had decided that in this, she wanted to emulate Myriah and not her mother. Crowds never made her uneasy as they had made her mother and she was pleased to hear the cheers that added itself to the cacophony. Moved by a sudden instinct, she motioned to the knight closest to her to move aside. When he did, she leaned in her saddle and placed a few coins in the little girl's hand. Now, she saw her eyes close, dark and wide. She smiled. The cheers turned to riot of acclaims. The Dornish knight resumed his place and Daenerys saw the approval in his smile.

They were just leaving the main sept when they saw the riders coming through the Threefold Gate. Wherever they passed, the cheers were deafening. Daenerys looked at her Dornish companions inquisitively.

"I think it's Darial Sand, my lady, " Lady Aletta explained. "The Prince's half-brother. We thought he might be dead, he left Dorne two years ago and more…"

"I see," Daenerys said and tried to keep her face calm. The cheers the bastard son of the late Prince was getting could hardly put her mind to rest. Suddenly, she was sorry that she had never expressed any wish to go in public with Maron, so she could gauge _his_ popularity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New 2014 Year to everyone!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Rianna 1, for reviewing each chapter.

"My lady, the lunch has been laid out," Aletta Dayne said and Daenerys looked up from her embroidery.

"Is the Prince back?" she asked. Since her return from the sept, she had asked about her husband, hoping they'd be able to strike something like peace, only to be informed that he had left the Old Palace the night before. The first thought that had gone through her head had been the fear that he had gone to another woman. After all, he hadn't been said to have a mistress since his Alynna's death and that had been a few months ago, shortly before their own wedding.

 _She gave me everything I needed. Why should I have been unfaithful to her?_ Clearly, Daenerys didn't give him what he needed, so why should he be faithful to her? And why should it matter at all?

Because he was her husband. Because she would spend her life here, with him. _Pride makes a very bad partner in bed_ , she had once heard Myriah said after a blazing row she had had with her royal husband. Of course, it was easy for the Queen to say it. She was not only a bedmate, she was loved.

For the first time, she allowed a thought to enter her head, a memory that still haunted her with the daunt of shame and regret: Daemon's wife, taken captive after the Redgrass Field. How beautiful she had been at their wedding – and how she had regained nothing of that beauty after performing as a broodmare. Was that to be Daenerys' own fate – used, unwanted, and unloved, neglected as soon as she started to lose her looks after numerous pregnancies? Was this the punishment she had to endure? _I never wanted it_ , she railed inwardly. _I never intended to do anything to her._

But she had. What was marrying Daemon supposed to be? She had simply refused to give Silviana any consideration at all. And now she had found herself in what had surely been Silviana's own position – dependant on a man who didn't love her, who loved another woman instead. True, Alynna should be no threat for Daenerys – but she was. She had held Maron's heart in a way Daenerys didn't. She still dwelled here, in the rooms that had been hers once, in the child Maron would not send away no matter what.

No, they had to strike a peace. That was the only way for her to have a good life here.

"Yes, my lady," Aletta said. "He returned a while ago. He's with his brother now."

"Thank you, Aletta," Daenerys replied. So, she would have the chance to gauge this Darial Sand for himself. She had already heard from her ladies all about how great and courageous he was… and how attractive. It was told that more than a few of the noble women of Dorne could testify to his nightly skills but then again, it was only a juicy piece of gossip, at least where maidens were concerned. Daenerys had already heard about a story of him and three widows…

She had so hoped that she had left all those bastard siblings stories behind. But then, it was Dorne here. She should have expected that there would be a bastard brother or three of Maron's lurking around. She supposed she should be pleased that her husband's own bastard was only one! _Really, I should be grateful to the sainted Alynna for keeping Maron at her side unfailingly_ , she fumed as she walked toward the dining room.

Because of the hot weather, lunch in Sunspear tended to be pretty light, even in the Old Palace. Daenerys hoped they would have some of those nice balls of almond paste filled with raisins, as well as some nuts soaked in honey. Not that she would mind if the cooks had decided to fall back to some traditional Dornish meals. Now, she could eat almost anything Maron did and not give it a thought. She had even started to like all those spices.

Since lunch was not an official meal, she was not surprised to hear the voices from the adjacent chamber of the small dining room. Clearly, the men were not over with their conversation yet. Daenerys hesitated but entered and immediately regretted it. She should have known that the boy would be here.

Darial Sand, the late Prince's bastard, lifted Alor off his knees and placed him on the settee before rising politely to bow. Maron's look showed that he desired of Daenerys to extend her hand for Darial to kiss. All her peaceful intentions forgotten, she hesitated – and the moment passed.

"My lady," the young man said. He was a few years older than Maron, with the same dark eyes. His hair was glossy brown, though, not black, and his face was tanned, as befitting a captain in Dornish fleet. "I am honoured to finally meet you."

She gave him a long look. "I expected I'd see you at our wedding," she said neutrally.

"I could not have this pleasure," he said. "I was busy fighting the enemies of Dorne. There are always enemies. Some of those worms had permeated even the Dornish fleet." And then, he smiled. "Your Lord Velaryon was a great help. I can see why he was raised to Master of Ships."

That was news to Daenerys. She had thought the young man had been elevated solely because of his sister's marriage to Maekar. She had never considered the possibility of him being capable. But then, they all were, weren't they? Those who were elevated, at least – Baelor, Maekar… Brynden. Why should Naeryne's brother be any different?

A shriek made her jump just as she was making herself comfortable. She looked around wildly to see who was being killed but the enemy saw her before she saw him. Her shriek turned to laughter at the sight of the brown monkey that landed in her lap and fumbled to rise.

"Furry!" Alor exclaimed and came running to save what was, clearly, his new pet. The monkey jumped on his shoulder, wove a hand through his hair and squealing, started tugging at him to go somewhere off.

Maron sighed and looked at his brother. "Really!" he exclaimed. "Will I ever live to see the day you bring a present that is _normal_?"

"Furry is normal!" Alor exclaimed indignantly before Daenerys could say the same. In truth, she wouldn't mind if Darial had decided to present _her_ with a monkey. Unbidden, the thought of Furry jumping on the High Septon's shoulder and pushing the crystal crown aside to get him by the hair… if he found some at all, made her grin improperly.

"I bought him against a length of silk in Volantis," Darial said. "I thought Alor might like him."

"I do,' the boy assured him vehemently but the energy let go off him pretty fast. For the last few weeks, he had changed – he had become quite restless, his appetite gone. Daenerys could guess what he was thinking about – the rumours had reached even her.

Alor went back to his uncle and sat down next to him. "You know it'll be the Warrior's Day soon, don't you?"

The palace had been preparing for the celebration for weeks. Personally, it was never one of Daenerys' favourite holy days but of course, it didn't matter. She had started organizing the festivities, ordering the courses for the feast and conversing with the septons.

Of course, she suspected that it would not be a favourite holy days of Maron's, either. Not now.

"Yes," Darial said. "I know it'll be the Warrior's Day soon."

"And…" the boy started and his voice faded.

"And your mother's nameday, as well," Darial finished for him.

Alor nodded.

"I know," Darial said.

Alynna's nameday was the Warrior's Day. Daenerys had already heard that when Alor had been even younger, they had had two celebrations in the same day – in the morning, it had been Alynna's nameday, then it had been the Warrior's Day and late in the evening, when Alor had been already put to bed, it had been Alynna's nameday once again and she, Maron, Darial, and a few friends had gotten drunk together.

"Does the Stranger allow namedays?" Alor asked, looking from his uncle to his father, and then Daenerys.

"Err…" Darial started.

"I don't think…" Maron tried.

Daenerys wanted to snap at them but it would be no good.

"I don't think why he wouldn't," she said before the two foolish men could say exactly what they shouldn't.

Unfortunately, that clearly made Alor think that she was the one who could give answer to all his questions. He hugged the monkey and looked at Daenerys.

"Why isn't my mother coming back?" he asked. "Was I bad?"

That was what one got when they opened their mouth when they should have kept silent. She didn't even bother to look at Maron for help – she knew he was as stunned as her, if not more. What in the Mother's name had he been _doing_ all this time he had been spending with his son? What had he been talking to him about if he had missed on the most important things? And why, oh why should she be the one to clean the mess?

"No, Alor," she said, knowing that the two men would be no good at all. "Your mother was just ill."

"My nursemaid was also ill."

"Yes, but that's another illness. Your mother wanted to stay here but she couldn't because she was too ill…" A new thought came to her and for a moment, rendered her speechless. "Alor, did you think your mother was coming back?"

"Yes," he said softly and nodded. "She might not like it with the Stranger. She always said Sunspear was the place she loved best. She might like it better here and come back."

 _Maron has done great job at explaining death to him, hasn't he?_ "I am sorry, Alor, but your mother isn't coming back. Ever."

For a while, he stared at her before running out of the room, squeezing the monkey so tight that it started screeching again. Maron rose and banged his fist against the wooden frame of the window, leaving a bloody imprint. Darial looked as if he would rather be fighting sea battles again.

For the first time since her arrival, Daenerys realized that she wasn't the only one who had lost her way.


End file.
